If You're So Smart, Why Are You Still So Afraid?
by Morralls
Summary: Bruce Banner is (finally) going to college, but there are rules he has to follow and his roommate Steve Rogers won't leave him alone and Tony Stark is maybe the only person who can keep up with him, but with a secret like the one Bruce is hiding, he knows that he can't trust anyone. He just wants to get his PhD and get out of here. No one ever said growing up was easy.


**Author's Note: I don't usually do AUs like this, but the story in my head WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE. Also, I have created a roleplay that desperately needs people. It can be found here: forum/Forging-Bonds/136713/ Come story with me. Now, for your consideration... **

He looked down at the piece of paper in his hands. It was a list of occupants for room 14 in the Lancaster building, complete with pictures and short bios per person.

He inspected them again, as though they had possibly changed since he last read them, or that scraps of information hadn't been long since memorized. The first photo was of a young blonde man with a wide smile. The neat lettering beneath his name identified him as Steven G. Rogers. Steven, apparently, was an overachiever. He had graduated five years ago as the Valedictorian of his high school. He was also a member of the art club, Class President three years running, a linebacker on the football team where he was voted MVP, a DARE activist, and voted 'Most Likely To Succeed.' He served a brief stint in the US army and was attending college at 23 on his GI Bill.

The second man looked to be about the same age as Steven Rogers, but was a scowling brunette with piercing green eyes. There was little information about him except that he was apparently a dropout with a GED, also going to school on his GI Bill. The slip of paper identified him as Clinton Barton.

The third picture was not of a man at all, but of a scrawny teenager with a mess of curly hair and brown eyes set behind wire-framed glasses. Robert B. Banner, the paper informed him, had graduated high school at age thirteen. He was a certified genius, but had only been deemed 'responsible enough' for college now, almost three years later. He had a curfew of midnight (unless he was working) and had to follow 'appropriate rules of conduct.'

The boy in the picture, he mused, looked a lot more confident than he felt right now. _Come off it. Might as well get this over with._ He stared at the doorknob, trying to pluck up the courage to go inside. _Idiot, you''ll have to open this door every day for the next few years. It's a simple hinge mechanism drilled into some wood. It won't kill you. _But it wasn't the door that frightened him. It was what was on the other side of it. He lifted a shaking hand, reaching for the handle, and it turned without him ever touching it. He found himself staring up at the brunette from the paper in his hand: Clinton Barton.

"You're the boy scout?"

_Boy scout? _"I... I don't follow."

Barton sneered. "That's good, 'cause I'm going to a girls' dorm where they have a strict 'no kids' policy. You gonna let me out of the room, Scout?"

"Huh?" _You're blocking the doorway, moron! _"Oh. Right. Sorry." He stumbled back and the man fixed him with a contemplative look..

"You know kid, I'd say you're a little slow on the uptake for a genius, but Hell, what to I know? Don't touch my shit, and don't make a mess." With those parting words, he wandered off down the hall and vanished.

Unsure what to make of his apparent new nickname and wondering whether or not to be offended by the aspersions cast on his intellect, Bruce stared dumbly after him for a moment. He gathered himself together, surprised to see that the door had been left ajar for him. With no other choice, he slipped quickly into the room and closed the door behind him. Something rattled above his head and he looked up, expecting to see a bucket of water or something falling on him. There was a dartboard handing above the door, six darts clustered together in the bullseye. The muscles in his shoulders relaxed, and he turned his focus to inspecting his new digs.

It was smaller than he had expected for three people, and very plain, with white washed plaster walls. Directly in front of the door were the endposts of a set of twin sized bunk beds. They both appeared to have been claimed already: The top had a half empty suitcase, and whatever had been taken out was strewn haphazardly over the bed. The bottom was neatly made, the ends of the blankets tucked carefully under the mattress. A row of suitcases was lined up underneath the bed, and to the right of the pillow sat a blue plastic bin, serving dual purpose as both storage and bedside table. There was a dresser right beside it, and a closed door, which was presumably a communal bathroom. (The closet was at his left side, the door slid open right next to him.) A window sat in the wall to his right, beside another dresser and the room's third and final bed.

Being that this bed was clearly the only one remaining unclaimed, Bruce could only assume that it was designated for him. It was unclear whether this had been done as a gesture of kindness or an act of segregation, and after a second's deliberation, he decided that it didn't mater. It wasn't as though he would ever have the nerve to ask. He set his messenger bag down and hefted his suitcase onto the naked mattress.

"That's it?" The voice at his left made him jump, and he flushed and adjusted his glasses as he turned to face the speaker. Steven Rogers' picture didn't do him justice. He was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, well over Bruce's five feet and three inches, and was broad-shouldered and muscular. Rogers gestured to his bed. "You only brought one suitcase?"

"Um... yeah."

"Huh. Seems a little... Spartan." Rogers said.

"I guess." Bruce unzipped his suitcase and pulled out a set of sheets, putting his pillow aside for the moment. He didn't feel any overwhelming urge to explain. Genius was unpopular enough. _Poor_ and genius was even worse.

"You must be Robert. I'm Steve."

"Bruce." He corrected absently, struggling with the fitted sheet. _Idiot! Why not correct the guy the first time you meet him. That's a great way to keep things civil, stupid!_ "Um... that is, most people call me by my middle name. Robert's fine though, if you ah... prefer that."

"Which do _you_ prefer?"

"Uh... Bruce."

"Bruce it is then. A man's got a right to be called by his own name." Steve's smile faded as he watched the teen battle with the sheet. "You want a hand with that?"

_Linebacker, Class President_. The words from Steve's bio came back to him. This was a popular guy. _Valedictorian_. A smart popular guy. Probably trying to lure the teenager into a false sense of security for some horrible prank his roommates would pull as soon as he got complacent. _So don't get complacent._ "Um... thanks, but I've got it."

"No, really. Here." Steve leaned over to tuck the corners of the sheet in at the far end of the mattress, stretching it over the bed and securing it with quick, efficient movements.

"Thanks." Bruce spread his sheet over the bed as Steve stuffed his pillow into a pillowcase.

"No problem. You just haven't quite gotten tall enough yet." He reached out to ruffle Bruce's hair, which he _hated_. "How tall are you anyway?"

"Five three. I know. I'm a runt." Last to go on the bed was a threadbare knit blanket that was even smaller than the self-professed runt.

"Nah. You're only what, sixteen?"

"Not until next month."

"Fifteen? Don't worry then. You'll get taller." Steve stepped back to admire their joint handiwork, an his brow furrowed. "You'll freeze under that blanket. Clint likes it arctic in here at night."

"I think I met him..."

Steve took one look at Bruce's face and laughed. "Don't take it personally. He's rude to everyone. He's nice, once you get to know him."

_Sure he is._ Bruce offered a noncommittal smile and turned his attention back to unpacking. Steve, it would seem, still had questions.

"So you graduated high school at thirteen? Really?"

"A few days after my birthday, yeah." He had been set up to graduate just _before_ his birthday, but... _Don't think about it._

"Woah. Guess you really are a genius. Your parents must be really proud."

_Not after...Don't think about that either. _"I guess."

"They haven't told you so?"

_Pushy, aren't you?_ "Well... it's complicated, I guess. I don't... talk about it that often." He murmured, setting his meager collection of shirts in a drawer.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry." Steve sounded genuinely apologetic. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Bruce emptied the last of his suitcase, stowing a pair of beat-up sneakers at the foot of the bed and his toothbrush and a bar of soap in the bathroom. "Uh... sorry. Thanks." He pushed the suitcase under his bed, and then had no reason not to look at Steve.

"But listen, Bruce... There's no pressure or anything, but if you ever want to talk or something, or if you need anything, just let me know." Steve's smile looked so sincere that Bruce was torn between believing him and wanting to hit him.

"Thanks." _What, do you think I'm stupid? 'Come and tell me all your troubles, Brucey. I'll listen and be sympathetic, and I won't tell anyone. Except Facebook and Twitter.' No thanks._ He picked up his messenger back, slipping it over his shoulder and squeezed the strap, a nervous habit. "I'm uh... going to take a walk. Check out campus."

"Want me to show you around?"

_What are you, my babysitter?_ Now that he thought about it, that may very well be the case. "No thanks. I kind of want to be alone. Clear my head, you know?" Steve frowned at him, apparently thinking. "D... Do you mind? If I go alone, I mean."

"No. Not at all. I guess I just didn't realize that happened to geniuses too."

"I think it happens to everyone." Bruce didn't waste any more time in getting out the door. He didn't get it.

_I just want to be left alone. I want to get through college the same as anybody else. Why can't it be easy?_

_Because you don't deserve it to be easy_. That whisper in the back of his mind was familiar, a voice that only manifested itself in his internal monologues when he got close to forgetting. Well, as close as he _ever_ got to forgetting.

Suddenly, the campus was too small. It was suffocating. He needed to get out of here, needed to get away, if only for a short time. He called up the list of rules he had been given, pulled it from the dregs of his mind where he had stored it after filing it away as 'Never Going To Happen.'

"**The student will not be permitted to leave campus grounds with the exception of holidays and weekends**."

It was Thursday, but the semester didn't officially start until next Monday. Did that count? _Do I care?_

Better to be careful. He could be sneaky if he had to. He walked quickly through campus, relying on his memory of the map he had been given, and relaxed only once he was successfully on a bus, headed towards the river.

_If you get expelled for this, you thoroughly deserve it. Breaking rules your first day here. Why not pick up some beer while you're at it, Idiot?_ Bruce refused to listen to the voice. He needed to get away. He could handle this. He could handle school. _Do your work and stay out of the way. You'll make it through. You can do this. _

He stepped off the bus with a murmured thanks and walked the half mile to the river. It was quiet today, and there was no one in sight. With a sigh, he sank down onto the grass, staring out over the water. _Oooh, pretty. Hope some murky water is worth risking expulsion. Good move, genius._

"I can handle getting expelled." He said out loud, hoping that verbal affirmation would be enough to silence that sneering, hateful voice. "I can handle getting expelled. I could even handle flunking out! What I _cannot_ handle is running away because of _Steven fucking Rogers!_ I'm not letting some phony jerk trying to manipulate me! Do you really think I'm going to spill all me secrets so you can start hazing the nerd teenager out of school? Is that what it takes to make you feel like a man, Steve?! Because I'm sticking around! No matter what you do to me, no matter what sick joke you and your buddy Clint dream up, I'm not going anywhere!" He found himself shouting towards the opposite bank, startling a duck into flight, and fell silent, chest heaving with the force of his rage.

"Well damn. Tell that river how you really feel. I mean _really_ tell it, Big Guy, bar none. Don't spare its feelings at all."

Bruce fell back into the grass, too exhausted to be surprised or ashamed at having been caught. Bouts of rage like that always left him feeling drained. His view of the sky was almost immediately marred by a youthful face beneath a shock of dark hair that stuck up in intentional disarray. "You're Tony Stark." He knew the other boy. Tony Stark's acceptance was the only reason they let Bruce into college.

The boy grinned. "I know who _I_ am. I want to know who the guy having a shouting match with a body of water is."

"None of your business." Bruce kind of wanted to hit him, but it seemed like too much effort just now.

"Let's see... are you supposed to be sneaking off campus? I feel like that was on the list of no-nos in the packet." Stark sat beside him, laying back in the grass. "Now, _I _don't give a shit, but the Dean of crucifixion or whatever might have a problem with it."

"Thaddeus Ross, Dean of Discipline." Bruce corrected, having already met the intimidating man. "And aren't you breaking the rules too?"

"I'm sorry, when you said my name, I assumed you knew who I am. I'm _Tony fucking Stark_. No relation to Steven fucking Rogers, by the way. We just share a middle name."

Bruce snorted despite himself. "Bruce Banner."

"_Bruce fucking Banner!_" Tony yelled the name and received a series of obscene echoes from across the water.

"A little louder. I don't think they heard you back at campus." Tony dragged in a massive breath and Bruce casually punched him in the stomach before he could comply.

"You're really violent, you know that?" Tony complained when he could breathe again.

"I might have heard something along those lines before, yea." He agreed. "So what brings you off campus?"

"I was following you."

"This early in the year and I already have a stalker. I think that's a new record for me." Bruce mused.

"Yeah, because I'm sure people _flock_ to you." Tony snickered.

"I think it's my sparkling personality."

"Nah. Definitely the hair. People love the whole wild 'Einstein' thing on smart guys. It's totally the reason Steven fucking Rogers is so all about you."

"Actually, I think he's my babysitter."

Tony snorted. "And he's doing a _wonderful_ job."

"Never said he was good at it." Bruce replied, putting his arms behind his head and watching the clouds scuttle lazily by.

"Mm. So, Big Guy, tell me all your secrets. I'll haze you out of the school." Tony offered magnanimously.

"Well, I was born in a circus. My dad was a traveling salesman who hit it off with the bearded lady. Spent the first years of my life living in the cage with the lions."

"Explains the mane." Tony said, plucking one of Bruce's hairs out. "And the manners."

"Yeah? What's your excuse?"

"Hereditary assholism. It's a genetic disease that WebMD can tell you all about."

"Symptoms include having the surname Stark?"

"Dealing with the press."

"Being famous."

"And rich."

"And genius."

"Having wiki pages dedicated to you."

"Getting everything you want."

Tony Stark snorted. "You know, Big Guy, I think I like you. Which sucks, because it means we have to go back to campus. Can't have them throwing out the only person who can keep up with me."

"Yes, because then you'll be an obscenely rich _bored_ genius, and then where will we be?"

"Oh, there's no end to the trouble I can get into." Stark said cheerfully. "If I don't have a chaperone, things get even worse."

"Don't look at me. I've got a warden myself."

Stark stood, grinning down at him as he offered a hand up. "Oh no, Bruce. You'll be the Bonnie to my Clyde, the Thelma to my Louise, the Bloom to my Stephen, the-"

"Watson to your Holmes?"

"I was gonna say 'Yoshi to my Mario,' but that works better."

"Great. I get the green animal thing and you get the fancy powers. Thanks." Bruce leaned down to pick up a stone. It skipped six times over the water before sinking. "I see where your reputation comes from."

"What, you don't think I can fly and throw fire?"

"I've heard people call you a 'dragon of a boy,' but I didn't think it was such a literal thing."

Tony punched him in the shoulder. "Come on, Banner. We can't have children running amok and breaking house rules."

"Unless it's by some villainous scheme you orchestrated."

"Naturally." Tony led him back to the bus stop. "So what did this Rogers guy do to you, anyway?"

"Nothing. Yet." Bruce said carefully. Tony Stark was fun to sharpen his tongue on, but he didn't get it. He was, after all, _Tony fucking Stark_. This was a guy who had it all. Besides, he _did_ have a reputation. Most people their age didn't earn titles like 'dragon of a boy' without provocation. Bruce thought he might kind of like this boy. That didn't mean he trusted him.

"You really think that he's going to have a problem with you?"

"My roommates are military guys."

"Watch it. My fortune was made off those idiots."

"I think it's your dad's fortune, actually."

"Only til the old man bites it. Then Stark Industries is all mine, and I'm gonna revolutionize it."

"And I'll rise as your greatest rival. Bannertech will be a technology company the likes of which the world has never seen."

"You know, it _has_ been a while since I've crushed anyone's hopes and dreams. Sounds like fun." He held out a hand. "Rivals?"

He could agree to that. He shook the proffered hand. "You're on."

Tony grinned as they stepped off the bus and back onto campus. "And they told me you were a genius. _Nobody_ goes up against Stark Industries."

"I think that might be the problem." He quipped, making Tony laugh raucously.

"Bruce? I've been looking all over for you. Did you leave campus?" Bruce's good mood vanished as Steve approached.

"Uh..."

"He was with me." Tony said quickly.

Steve eyed Tony with something akin to distaste. "You're the Stark boy, right? Anthony, isn't it? Did you boys leave campus? Because you're both pretty young, and there are dangerous people out there. You should be careful."

"He's right you know." Tony said sternly, wagging a finger at Bruce. "I can't tell you the number of times I've been attacked in broad daylight by random passersby. You remember: always eat your vegetables and drink all your milk, and if a stranger tries to take you home, stop and scream 'not my parent.'"

Bruce snorted. "I'll be sure to remember that." He scowled as Steve put an arm around his shoulders.

"You can make jokes all you like, Anthony, but I'm serious. You two were given a set of rules, and you should follow them. I'll turn the other way just this once, because I'm sure you're both a little frightened of being on your own, but I don't want to catch you sneaking off campus again. Understood?"

Tony gave Steve a very serious look. "Don't worry, Steve. You won't catch us sneaking off campus again." He offered Steve an ironic military salute and marched away. The emphasis on _catch us_ was so subtle that Bruce wasn't sure Steve caught it. Apparently he didn't, because he squeezed the teen's shoulder.

"Bruce?"

_Idiot. You know he was watching you. What did you expect?_ He stared at his shoes. "I understand."

"Cheer up, it's not that bad. Come on. Let's hit D Hall and get something to eat."

"Sure." Bruce let Steve lead him away, appropriately shamed.

"You know why the roomed you with Clint and me, right? Steve asked as they walked.

Bruce shrugged the arm off his shoulders. "You're my chaperones."

"Because we're _responsible_. This is college, Bruce. You're free to do what you want, within reason." _Within limits, you mean._ "I know how it feels to suddenly have all this freedom and want to go where you want and do what you want, but it's important to remember what you're really here for."

"I know what I'm here for, Steve."

"Then why would you do something that reckless on your first day here?" Steve asked, not unkindly. "Did Tony Stark coerce you into leaving campus?"

"Tony didn't _coerce_ me into anything. I left campus of my own volition." Bruce replied. "He followed _me_ off campus, not the other way around."

"I find that hard to believe. You seem like a good kid, Bruce. Maybe a bit introverted, but good. You want to choose your influences carefully. There are people in this world who might _seem_ fun, but are in reality reckless and careless people who are going to lead you down paths that aren't necessarily in your best interests. People like Tony Stark. He has a reputation for being part of a crowd that you don't want to get mixed up with." Steve gave him a look full of meaning. "Now, I know he's your age, and he's probably the only other person on campus who is as smart as you are, but..."

_Is this the part where you tell me who I can and can't hang out with? Nicely, of course, but still threatening me. After all, you're only concerned about my future. _

"Look, maybe it's not my place to say, but I don't want you hanging out with Tony Stark. I think he's a bad influence, and..." Steve sighed, steeling himself. "If I have to interfere, I will, Bruce. You broke the rules today. I'll overlook it, but just _once_. I don't want to see you put your future at risk hanging out with the likes of that Stark boy, and if I catch you sneaking off campus when you're not supposed to again, I'll report you."

_Called it._ "I get it, Steve."

"I don't think you do. You have a lot of growing up to do yet, Son."


End file.
